


Thanksgiving Days (It's Turkey Time)

by LettersToShakespear



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Apple Pie, Baking, Family Feels, Thanksgiving, hand turkeys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersToShakespear/pseuds/LettersToShakespear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanksgiving themed prompts sent in on tumblr :) Send me in a prompt if you'd like to!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first fill is for littleravenkili who asked for Fili and Kili and Hand Turkeys :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Fili is eight years old, and his little brother, Kili, is four. He’d thought that making hand turkeys to decorate the house would be a good idea, but he’s beginning to realize that Kili is having more than a bit of a difficult time with what he thought would be a simple craft.

 

His little brother lays spread out on the living room floor, left hand on the paper and right hand fisted around a purple crayon. Pink tongue is stuck out from between his teeth, brows furrowed in frustration as the crayon refuses to cooperate.

 

It only takes a few more minutes for Kili to fling the crayon down onto the floor, scowl on his face and Fili can _see_ the wail that’s starting to build up. Fili is instantly by his side, placing a hand on Kili’s shoulder as he hushes his little brother.

 

“Hey, it’s okay Kili, I’ll help you make yours. Is it okay if I help you?”

 

Kili can be a stubborn little brat, and Fili knows that if he tries to just help him out without asking, he’ll refuse and _really_ throw a tantrum, because he wants to do everything all by himself.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Alright, put your hand down on the paper, and I’ll trace around it for you.”

 

“You have to use the purple crayon though Fili! It’s the best color!”

 

“Of course I’ll use the purple crayon Kee. But you have to keep your hand still on the paper or it won’t come out the right way.”

 

Kili looks at him with solemn eyes, sits dutifully on the floor and waits for Fili to trace around his pudgy fingers. It only takes a few moments, and Kili absolutely wriggles with happiness.

 

“Thank you Fee!”

 

“You’re welcome Kee. Now you just have to make the legs and the beak, and you can color it whatever way you want.”

 

“Purple! He’s going to be purple and I’m going to name her apple, because apples are tasty!”

 

Fili begs to differ on that opinion, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. He’s about to start making his own hand turkey, but Kili comes over with his crayons and a hardcover book in hand. He’s about to ask his little brother what he’s doing, but that’s soon answered by the little warm body that crawls into his lap, piece of paper slightly crinkled against the book.

 

Kili doesn’t even say anything, just sits in Fili’s lap and starts to draw out a beak and crooked legs. He colors away and Fili doesn’t even know how he got stuck with his little brother in his lap, but he doesn’t have the heart to push him off his lap. So he tries his hand at coercing his little brother off his lap.

 

“Hey Kee, want to get off my lap?”

 

The tiny brunette freezes, hand stilling on the paper and wide brown eyes turning to look at him.

 

“But why? I want to stay here!” Kili looks completely confused as to why Fili would ever want him to leave his lap when he’s so content. Fili gives in with a huff, wraps skinny arms around Kili and trains his eyes on what’s playing on the television.

 

“You can stay. Keep coloring your picture so you can give it to mom when she gets home.”

 

Kili has no problem with settling back comfortably in Fili’s lap, humming a little tune under his breath as he colors away. He is wrapped around Kili’s sticky little fingers.

 

Cute little brothers suck.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for an anon who asked for Aragorn/Legolas and feeling sleepy after Thanksgiving :)

* * *

Legolas was splayed gracefully along the couch in the living room, silvery blond hair spread in a shining curtain, eyes drooping and hand pressed against his stomach. He looks blissful and content, and it’s something that Aragorn enjoys fully.

 

Their Thanksgiving meal had bean quite hectic, what with Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry, and others had been over. Casseroles, vegetables, potatoes and pies had all been plentiful, and the group had gorged themselves on succulent turkey.

 

It’s now hours later, all the leftovers shoved into Tupperware containers and the dishes all cleared away. Despite giving half of the extras to Pippin and Merry, their fridge is full to bursting with food. They’ll be living off of Thanksgiving sandwiches for at least a week.

 

While it had been lovely to see their friends and spend time with them, Aragorn was more than happy to finally be alone with Legolas. Quietly entering the room, he grabs a quilt from the back of one of the armchairs, lays it out over Legolas and then lifts his head up to rest it back down onto his lap.

 

Aragorn cards his hair through silky locks, feels his heart bloom with warmth when his love smiles at him softly, blue eyes glazed with tiredness.

 

“That pack of hungry fiends tired me out. Who knew Merry and Pip could eat that much,” Legolas sighs.

 

“You’d do well not to underestimate those two.”

 

“They’re little heathens Aragorn. Next Thanksgiving we’ll have to make them their own separate apple pies.”

 

A soft smile spreads across Aragorns face, eyes bright with quiet love.

 

“Want to watch the recording of the parade? It’s a bit late, but better late than never.”

 

Picking up the remote, Aragorn proceeds to put the parade on, watching the way Legolas’ eyes light up with a pleased look. They settle in comfortably, enjoying shared warmth and happiness.

 

It doesn’t take long for Legolas to be pulled into sleeps embrace, Aragorn falling soon after. The recording of the parade plays on the background, a Thanksgiving lullaby to soothe their dreams.

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for ithiliend who asked for Mitchers and Apple Pie :) 
> 
> I hope you like it!

* * *

 

Baking is something that Mitchell has always thoroughly enjoyed, an activity that relaxes him and helps the vampire to find inner peace. He’d had a love for it long before he had been turned, helping his grandmother to bake pies from scratch when he was just a young thing in Ireland.

 

He remembers little hands rolling dough, mixing ingredients and trying to help cut apples with sticky hands. The smell of cinnamon reminds him of a home that’s long gone, having been swallowed up long ago by the green arms of Mother Nature. When he bakes and thinks about the past, he doesn’t get sad like he normally does. It’s one of the only times he can think about his human life without feeling sadness or regret.

 

Mitchell hadn’t originally been planning on baking anything that evening, not until he’d knocked over the spice rack and the cinnamon had come loose. The smell alone was enough to send him down memory lane, and before he knew it he was pulling ingredients for a crust. He’s humming a tune and just about to start mixing the butter in when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist, breath ghosting along his back before a face is pressed against the fabric of his shirt.

 

“What’re you making?”

 

Mitchel smiles softly as he looks down at the arms wrapped around his waist. Anders has all his weight pressed against him; voice a soft mumble as he leans on the curly haired vampire.

 

“Apple pie. Making sweet things for my sweety.”

 

“Oh shut it,” Anders scoffs, pulling away slowly before he’s standing right beside Mitchell, eyeing up the ingredients that litter the countertops. It’s amusing, seeing the way the blond God looks at the scene like it’s an invading army.

 

“Want to help?”

 

“I’ll muck it up. Remember what happened the last time I tried to help you?”

 

“Very true. I do recall you misbehaving with the whipped cream.”

 

“Oh I think you thoroughly enjoyed my misbehavior Vlad.”

 

“That might be true, but this time around, there’s no whipped cream to be involved. Now go wash your hands, I’ll show you how to mix up the dough.”

 

“Are you sure? Honestly, I’m shit at cooking and-“

           

“Relax, you’re going to be fine. If I could manage when I was just a little boy, I’m sure you’ll be able to mix the dough up quite easily at your current age.”

 

Anders pauses for a moment, biting off whatever sarcastic reply he’s about to make and goes to wash his hands at the sink. It’s not often that Mitchell manages to surprise Anders out of not being able to speak, so he may or may not add a point to the secret tally system he has been keeping in his head for the past year or so.

           

“So is this a really old family recipe I’m about to become privy to?”

 

“I don’t know. Someone seemed quite reluctant to help me out a few minutes ago.”

 

“Oh shut up you egg. Now give me the stupid bowl before I change my mind.”

 

A half smirk starts to form on Mitchells face, but he does it best to keep it under wraps. He could never be quite sure what would set Anders off on one of his famous tantrums, as the vampire liked to call them. They did, after all, quite resemble the stomping and whining of an average two-year-old toddler. Anders seemed to have quite a few of those, now that he thought about it. It was a good idea he found them to be oddly endearing for the most part. When he wasn’t the victim of them, that is.

 

“Okay. All you have to do is mix it all up with your hands until it’s crumbly. That’s all. When it starts to stick together, let me know, and I’ll tell you what to do next.”

 

Anders almost instantly shoves his hand into the mixture, eyebrows furrowed as his fingers squished away. All he wanted to do was kiss him silly. But if he started in on that they’d get completely sidetracked, and he was determined to make this pie. Instead he searches for the apples, rinses them off and starts peeling and slicing them into a bowl. He’s quick and efficient, partially from decades of practice as well as the whole vampire thing.

 

“M’done, what’s next, Chef?”

 

“Take it out of the bowl, you want to start by putting it in two balls that are about the same size. Then you have to start pressing them down on the countertop so they’re big circles.”

 

Anders moves onto his new task, and Mitchell continues to cut and peel the apples. They stand in companionable silence as they work away, and it’s not long before Mitchell is humming once again.

 

“What is that?” Anders asks.

 

“Just a tune my mum used to sing to me when I was young and I couldn’t sleep. I always think of her and my gran when I cook or bake things.”

 

“Did you cook with them a lot?”

 

“Oh yeah, I was the little helper around the house. Helped feed my cousins all the time, took care of them in the form of bossing them around. The perks of being the oldest,” Mitchell smiles.

 

The God looks more than a little dubious at that statement, but he refrains from making a sarcastic reply. One more tally mark for Mitchell. He was certainly on a roll today.

 

They go back to their tasks and soon enough both are finished, Mitchell directing Anders to put one of the sheets of crust into the nearby pie dish. Grabbing the rest of the ingredients, he motions for Anders to come over.

 

“Okay, Now I want you to pour this syrup into the bowl while I mix up the apples, and then we’ll add the cinnamon.”

 

It goes decent enough, and Anders only drizzles syrup over his hand once, something that Mitchell will take as a good sign. The cinnamon goes in next, along with the nutmeg. He stirs it all up until the slices are covered in the sweet mixture. Next they pour it into the crust-covered dish, scooping out as much of the syrup as they can.

 

Anders loos at the sticky substance with curiosity, not hesitating a moment to swipe his finger around to catch the extra sticky substance before he's popping the digit into his mouth and giving it a smooth suck. He hums in delight, and Mitchell is more than just hungry for pie now.

 

“Cut it out! If you destroy my experience of baking apple pie by replacing memories of my family with images of you naked, I’ll kill you Anders I swear.”

 

“You have me quivering in my boots Vlad, I swear. I don’t know how you do it, but you just scare the daylights out of me.”

 

Mitchell groans at the level of sarcasm dripping off of his words, pulling the pie dish away from Anders.

 

“Behave or you’re not getting a single bit of this pie! I’ll give a slice to Mike and let him tell you all about how amazing it is.”

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave during your sacred baking time! Just don’t talk about Mike enjoying something, it’s almost too traumatizing to picture.”

 

He chokes off his laughter, not wanting to give Anders the satisfaction of hearing it when he’s supposed to be admonishing him. A half smile shines through anyways, which leaves Anders with a self-satisfied look of his own.

 

“You’re a menace. Go preheat the oven for me while I put the crust on.”

 

Anders does, but not before he smacks Mitchell's ass with the flat of his hand. He barely manages to refrain from attacking Anders with a spatula. Instead he puts the crust on top of the apples and pinches it closed, then takes a knife to slice patterns into the dough. Arms wrap around his waist again.

 

“Thanks for letting me intrude on pie time.”

 

“Thanks for helping. Now I know you have some capable mixing skills, you can stick around instead of running away the next time I need help.”

 

“Ugh. Better be happy I love you.”

 

“Yeah, love you too Andy. Now come on, it takes about an hour for that to cook and I can think of a few things I’d like to do in that time.”

 

Anders is more than game for that.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for an anon on tumblr who asked for Mitchers and Anders hating Thanksgiving.

* * *

Holidays were days that you spent with love ones, when you all sat around and laughed and had a good time, trading stories and being happy around one another. It’s all about loving one another and all that bullshit.

 

So it stands to reason that Anders, without a doubt, _hates_ Thanksgiving. Hell, he hates any holiday that has to do with being around family, because he never had a very good family to start with. Granted, things were better in their own way these days, but they were still shitty.

 

Whenever the holidays hit, all he could think about were the dysfunctional days of his childhood, filled with yelling and screaming and not enough food to go around for him and his brothers. He remembers giving Axl and Ty almost all of his dinner most years.

 

Needless to say it wasn’t a time of cheer and thankfulness for him. It was more of a ‘drink myself into a stupor so I can forget’ kind of deal. That’s how he spent most of his holidays, besides one botched attempt at a family dinner at Ty’s place.

 

So. Vodka and copious amounts of other alcohol. That’s how he got through it. Up until now, that is. Because now he has a vampire boyfriend to spend the day of thanks with. All he can say is thank the Gods above for gracing him with someone who was willing to simply accept his aversion to the holiday.

 

It was never a spoken thing either, just something assumed. Mitchell knew quite a bit of his past, knew about his shit family life and his aversion to his older brother, Mike, for numerous reasons. So they didn’t bring the holiday up at all, went about their normal routine even as the date came closer and closer.

 

And when it was _The Day_ , as he dubbed it, Mitchell didn’t say anything at all. They curled up on the couch and watched terrible tv shows, ate some pizza and drank quite a few beers. Lazy kisses were traded for hours, fingers carding through hair and bodies pressed warm and close.

 

He never wants to spend _The Day_ any other way.

 

* * *

 


End file.
